THREE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE DAYS IN PRISON (_continued_)
A few days later, my counsel came and said to me: "We are to receive the
dossier, all the documents of your case, and we shall then be able to
read the evidence of all the witnesses, follow, page by page, the
various clues in their reports, and learn all that has been done--and
not been done.... Only, you will have to pay for that dossier."
"Pay!" I exclaimed. "Pay to know why I am accused of having murdered my
husband and my mother! Pay to be able to defend myself! You must have
lost your reason, Maître Aubin!"
"You are quite right, Madame: it is an infamous thing that money should
be demanded for your own dossier. It is scandalous, wicked,
unheard-of.... I grant you all that. But still, we must have the
dossier, and pay for it, since payment is demanded."
I shook my head: "Suppose I were a poor woman, should I have to do
without it?"
"Of course not.... But your dossier is enormous. It contains 4000
documents, and 15,000 pages. Think of it! At 150 words a page, it means
two million and a quarter words. They want 1800 francs for it (£72)."
"Can you not plead without it?"
"I could, certainly; I have been present at the whole of your
_Instruction_, and therefore know all about the case.... But one never
can tell, the Prosecution might spring some surprise upon us, at the
eleventh hour; we might not be prepared for it, however absurd or
fantastic it might be.... It would be better if we could study the
dossier in its entirety, and acquaint ourselves with the exact replies
of all the witnesses to the questions M. Hamard, M. Leydet, and M. André
put."
"Very well, then; I will defend myself, alone, without the dossier, and
without you, and my innocence shall triumph."
The next day, Marthe came and entreated me to buy the dossier, saying
that I had no right to take any risks. She even threatened to buy it
herself for me, if I did not alter my decision. I had to yield, and
entrusted my solicitor with the care of "purchasing the documents of my
own case," adding that I wished him to "try and obtain a reduction."
My solicitor obtained the dossier after much haggling, for £48, instead
of £72, and I knew then that another unlawful act had been committed...
by the Law!
It was the middle of summer now. It was light soon after three in our
cell, and Juliette pinned a blanket across our window so that we might
sleep a little longer. I still did much sewing for the Sisters, but
devoted several hours a day to the study of the voluminous and amazing
dossier. Twice, and sometimes three times a week, my counsel came, and
we "worked" together.
I discovered many remarkable things in the dossier. I discovered, for
instance, that ninety-nine per cent. of the persons whom I knew
intimately, receiving them again and again at my house, and seeing them
or communicating with them as often as two or three times a week--and
this until a few days before the crime--had declared in their evidence
that they hardly knew me at all!
One gentleman, a bright and thoroughly useless nonentity, who had known
me for several years, and whom for the sake of his charming young wife,
I had greatly helped in his career, stated that he had only met me once
or twice... forgetting that I had possessed, and still possess, a few
scores of his letters in which he beseeched me to help him out of his
difficulties, and to intercede in his favour with this or that Minister
of State! An aged lady, who ruled over a political Salon--whose chief
aim in life was nothing more nor less than the overthrow of the
Republic, and who invited me, though I never accepted, to secret
meetings where political plots were hatched, and who, manifesting the
greatest affection for me and my daughter, came _constantly_ to my
house--after declaring in her evidence that in February 1908, she "was
present at a dinner given by Mme. Steinheil, where she met M.
Dujardin-Beaumetz (Under-Secretary for Fine-Arts), Count and Countess
d'Arlon, the wife of an ex-Minister... altogether some fifteen guests of
incontestable morality." She went on to say that she had visited me, at
the d'Arlons, after the crime, when I told her what had happened on the
fatal night.... "She looked very upset and a prey to a kind of
hallucination, which made her jump from one topic of conversation to
another. To sum up, I had for the first time, the impression that Mme.
Steinheil had not been quite sincere with me, that she had wanted to use
to her advantage the position I hold in Society, and I mentally decided
to have nothing more to do with her!"
* * * * *
But perhaps the most "curious" document in the dossier was the evidence
given by the wife of a well-known banker, who stated: "At a reception,
three years ago (1906)... I heard Mme. Steinheil. I congratulated her,
in the usual terms.... I visited her husband's exhibition of paintings.
Mme. Steinheil then came to one of my receptions and promised to sing at
one of my "musicals." A few days later I invited her; she came with her
husband, sang, and was applauded. As I could not consider her as a
professional singer, I went to the Impasse Ronsin and bought one of her
husband's paintings.... I only saw Mme. Japy once, that was at the only
'at home' which I attended at the Steinheils'. This sums up the
relations my husband and I had with the Steinheils, except a mere visit
of condolence we paid to her, at Bellevue, after the crime."
(_Dossier_ Cote 3138)
* * * * *
The true facts about those relations are these: this lady during the
three years of our acquaintance came to most of my receptions, and
stayed frequently from three o'clock till past eight. She used my salon
as a means of making and cultivating acquaintances who might be useful
to herself and her husband. People prominent in politics, art, or
society did not attend her receptions, and she frequently sought my help
in her desire to alter this. She brought all her friends to my house,
called on me with her husband, not only in Paris but at Bellevue, where
she came not just once, for a "mere visit of condolence," but a dozen or
fifteen times without being invited, and week after week she sent me
charming letters, all beginning with the words, "My darling Nell,"--a
name she had given me for some reason unknown to me--not every day, but
almost!
As for the close friends who coolly declared they had never met me at
all, their names would make a long list!... I have forgiven them all.
Friends in need are rare indeed; and was a woman ever in greater
need--of sympathy--than I was during those terrible months that followed
the crime! Well, I would rather that "devoted" friends ignored me than
slandered me, as so many did, alas....
As a matter of fact, the only people who did have a kind or just word to
say about me were not Society people, or wealthy or "prominent"
personages, but old servants whom I had nursed when they were ill, and
poor artists--men and women--who were not ashamed to say that I had
helped them.
The dossier, indeed, proved a mine of psychological information. It
revealed in their true light the character of scores of people whom I
had trusted, helped, and liked, and it showed up vividly a side of
Parisian Society which it is perhaps best to ignore.
I experienced another surprise when I found that several persons whom I
had never met, and had never heard of, gave evidence about me--most
damaging evidence, of course.
The most "dramatic" discovery I made in the dossier was that of Comte de
Balincourt's career. The following document, especially, gave me one of
the greatest shocks I ever experienced:
"Paris, December 9th, 1909. _Report_:
"According to my instructions, I called on the 3rd inst. on M. Sébille,
Principal Commissary of the _Sûreté Générale_ at the Ministry of the
Interior. This magistrate pointed out to our chief the interest there
might be in consulting a dossier which M. Sébille possesses about Comte
de Balincourt, whose name has been mentioned in connection with the
Steinheil affair.
"M. Sébille first of all made it known that, at the beginning of
December 1907, he had been concerned with de Balincourt. The latter had
been marked out to him as the instigator of a burglary which was to take
place at that time to the detriment of Mme. de Brossard, a lady of
independent means, 23 Rue de l'Orangerie, at Versailles.
"This burglary was to be committed in circumstances which are related in
the dossier which M. Sébille allowed me to consult.
"The facts are these:
"D. H. J. H. Emmanuel Testu, Count de Balincourt, born on August 4th,
1873, was married at Versailles in December 1901.... A divorce was
pronounced against him in January 1907. It is said that while he was
married, Count de Balincourt made long stays at his wife's
grandmother's, Mme. de Brossard, at Versailles. He knew that she had
large sums of money in her safe. Needy, and having recourse to
expedients, de Balincourt planned the burglary mentioned above.
"He told his friend P. L. F. Delpit--who styled himself a man 'of
independent means'--about the scheme. At that time, de Balincourt and
Delpit resided together at Neuilly. It would appear that Delpit, who
mixes with criminal people, took upon himself the task of recruiting the
individuals capable of successfully carrying out that 'operation.'
"Whilst he was being carefully shadowed by M. Sébille's inspectors,
Delpit was followed to the haunts of professional thieves... (two of
these haunts are here quoted). It was thus ascertained that Delpit had
conferred with criminal individuals, the identity of a few of whom was
established:
"(1) A man nicknamed Baptistin, aged 30... who has the reputation of
being a dangerous criminal.... (2) Langon, Marius, nicknamed 'the
Gypsy.'... He is mentioned as possessing a special pneumatic tool for
boring metal.... Five sentences have been passed on him, including one
of five years' imprisonment.... (3) Goirand, aged 30... twice
condemned.... (4) Fontaine, Gustave, aged 30.... (5) _Monstet de
Fonpeyrine, born in 1877, at Santiago de Cuba_, conjurer, arrested in
November last for robberies in Paris hotels.
"Whilst these individuals were being shadowed by the _Sûreté Générale_,
it was found that Fontaine drove to Versailles in a motor-car, and he
was seen at night trying skeleton keys in the lock of the door of Mme.
de Brossard's mansion.
"It is not known whether some indiscretions were committed; at any rate,
these individuals ceased to meet in their haunts, and abandoned their
plans.
"Finally, during the shadowing of Count de Balincourt, _one of the
inspectors saw him go to the Impasse Ronsin No. 6, and from there, by
the Underground to the station of 'Les Couronnes,' where he (de
Balincourt) had an appointment with the above-mentioned individuals_....
"...At any rate, the fact seems sufficiently established that the
initial steps of the burglary that had been planned were carried out,
since skeleton keys were tried by Fontaine, on the door of Mme. Brossard
(grandmother of de B.'s wife).
"As regards de Balincourt and Delpit, both these individuals are
mentioned in the general report concerning the Steinheil affair. _There
are 'dossiers' about both of them in the archive of the Sûreté in
reference to burglaries; and further, there are photographs of both of
them at the 'Service of Judicial Identification._'
"(Signed) INSPECTOR DECHET."
(_Dossier_ Cote 1069)
* * * * *
And this Count de Balincourt I received, alas, several times at my house
and once at Bellevue, in circumstances which I have described!
No power on earth could induce me even to suggest that M. de Balincourt
and his friend knew anything about the Impasse Ronsin murder, or were in
any way connected with it. I foolishly accused Couillard and Wolff, and
have bitterly regretted it ever since, but I have often thought what a
fortunate thing it was for me that I was not acquainted with those
details of M. de Balincourt's life, after the crime and _before_ my
arrest. For, in the morbid state of agitation in which I was, and in my
pardonable eagerness to discover the murderers, I should no doubt have
made my own case worse by accusing, not only my valet and the son of my
cook, but also M. de Balincourt, especially as he had gained access to
my house in a rather strange manner, had deceived me about his address,
had done his utmost to gain M. Steinheil's confidence, _and knew about
the Faure documents_.
As it was, I had strong suspicions against him, and they became even
stronger, and surely, after what I read in M. de Balincourt's dossier,
and have partly quoted, the reader will perhaps grant that, although I
had no "real" or "absolute" cause to suspect the man, I had some reason
to... let us say, distrust him.
I must add, however, that in another of Inspector Dechet's reports I
read that: "It has been impossible to ascertain what persons M. de
Balincourt went about with in May 1908.... The only friend he was known
to have at the time was Delpit, who lived with him. It is useful to
mention that M. de Balincourt has always asserted that he had made the
acquaintance of Mme. Steinheil towards February 15th (1908).... It
appears doubtful therefore that at the time when this individual (M. de
B.) was being shadowed by the _Sûreté Générale_ in December 1907, he
could have been seen going to No. 6 Impasse Ronsin.
"The Inspector:
"(Signed) DECHET."
(_Dossier_ Cote 1089)
* * * * *
M. de Balincourt was several times interrogated, and among other things,
he stated: "On Saturday, May 30, 1908, I returned at about 8 P.M. to the
pavilion where I reside with my friend Delpit (at Courbevoie, a suburb
of Paris).... We dined at 11.30; we parted and went each of us to his
rooms. The next day, May 31st, I rose late and joined my father at the
Neuilly Church, as I did every Sunday. At about one o'clock I was back
home and lunched with my family and Delpit. I spent the afternoon in my
garden, and only went out at seven o'clock to buy the journal _La
Presse_, with Delpit, at the station. After we had deplored our losses,
for we had put some money on a horse which had not won, my attention was
drawn to a heading announcing the murder of the members of the Steinheil
family. As I read the article I was dumfounded and absolutely
distracted. We were surprised, Delpit and I, that Mme. Steinheil had
been spared by the murderers, but I was the first to recognise that
circumstances must have favoured her....
"(Signed) HAMARD.
COMTE DE BALINCOURT."
(_Dossier_ Cote 1087)
* * * * *
I must also add that it is stated in the _Dossier_ Cote 1089, that it
was not while the gang of thieves previously referred to were being
shadowed that one of them "was seen going to Versailles to try the
skeleton-keys" but that "the fact was revealed by an _indicateur_ whose
name the _Sûreté Générale_ could not divulge."
I made many other strange discoveries in that most extraordinary of
dossiers. Indeed, it not only contains the absolute proofs of my
innocence, throws much light on Parisian life, and gives an insight into
the psychology of at least two or three "spheres" of Society, but it
also holds a serious condemnation of a number of judicial methods, so
palpably unjust that it seems incredible that they should be allowed to
exist in a land, which by universal consent ranks foremost, not only in
the realms of Art and Science, but also in the domain of
Intellectuality, noble aspirations, and idealism.
The dossier fills 15,000 pages; it is therefore impossible to quote it
in full.... I have, however, submitted to the reader its most essential
parts; but before concluding this rapid review of the surprises that
dossier held in store for me, I should like to mention one or two more
episodes:
I had a lady friend, who was then about fifty, and whom I had known
intimately for nearly fifteen years. This lady knew my life and my
affairs as thoroughly as I knew hers. She came constantly to the Impasse
Ronsin with her husband, a man of about seventy, and her cousin, a
barrister of repute, and also to _Vert-Logis_, at Bellevue, with that
cousin. We corresponded regularly, in the most affectionate of terms.
That she should have virulently criticised my conduct, that she should
have made such acid statements as these: "Mme. Steinheil was most
familiar and very quickly familiar with everybody, with men as well as
with women; she called gentlemen 'my friend, my great friend,' and
ladies 'my dear, my darling!'... She gave me the impression of being
jealous of her lady-friends' wealth. She lied constantly about anything
and everything.... I saw her less and less.... I had heard ugly rumours
about her conduct...." (_Dossier_, Cote 3058)--all this I can realise
and forgive: it is so human, so typical of a certain class of Society
and a certain type of woman.... Besides, I was in prison at the time; I
could not answer or contradict statements. My "friend" was quite safe.
But it appears that at the same time--early in 1909--this lady spoke
about certain anonymous letters and about _poisoned chocolates_, which
she thought I had sent her!
I can imagine the sensation in her drawing-room, and the success of her
"at homes." The Steinheil affair was the one topic of conversation
everywhere, and here was a hostess who had known that wicked woman, the
"Tragic Widow," the "Red Widow," for many, many years! And she had
something new to say, something amazingly sensational: she had once
received a box of poisoned chocolates from the woman who was accused of
having murdered her husband and her mother!...
I can see the ladies forgetting their tea and their _petit-fours_,
pressing eagerly round my "friend" and saying, in hushed tones: "Not
really!... You don't mean to say that.... But what a monster that
creature must have been.... And to think she was here, in this very
room.... My poor dear.... No, no, we shall not mention this to any
one. You can rely on us. But what a dreadful secret!"...
The next day, of course, all the newspapers devoted columns to it.
The mystery ceased to be a mystery: Mme. Steinheil had poisoned the
victims and afterwards strangled them, when they were quite defenceless!
It was quite clear! The riddle was solved, at last!
Once again, Public Opinion was aroused against me. And from these people
who read the newspapers, whose minds were daily being incensed against
me--to such an extent, I have heard since, that it was not safe for any
one to take my part, even in a salon!--from that enraged Public, twelve
men were to be chosen, a few months later, to decide my fate!
I need hardly say that there was not one atom of truth in that atrocious
story. In her evidence given _before M. André_, on January 12th, 1909,
my "friend" stated: "Three or four years ago, I received two or three
anonymous letters, teasing rather than nasty. I _supposed_ they came
from Mme. Steinheil, but I never spoke to her about them. On the
occasion of the New Year, at that same period, a box of chocolates,
badly packed, was left with my _concierge_ for me. Without tasting them
or giving any to any one, not even my dog, I sent those chocolates to
the Municipal Laboratory to be analysed. I was told that the chocolates
were absolutely harmless. I had taken the whole thing as a joke, which I
attributed to the author of the anonymous letters, that is, to Mme.
Steinheil. Since then I have found that those chocolates had been sent
me by Doctor C."
(_Dossier_ Cote 3058)
* * * * *
A thorough inquiry was made, and its results form a report dated
February 9th, 1909, addressed to M. Hamard by Inspector Laurent, in
which it is stated that:
"... She (Mme. D.) lost or destroyed the written reply sent by the
Laboratory, but remembers that it said the chocolates were harmless....
Dr. C. stated that two or three years ago he had sent to Mme. D. a box
of chocolates, but that he had forgotten to send his card with it, so
that the lady heard of the origin of the chocolates only when he himself
asked her if she had received them. The lady _never_ told him they were
'bad.'
"Inquiries made by the Municipal Laboratory about those chocolates,
yielded no results. _No traces can be found that Mme. D. ever sent
chocolates to be analysed, either in her own name or in any other name
at her address._"
(_Dossier_ Cote 3060)
* * * * *
In this way was yet another "story," most damaging to my cause, told,
spread, universally discussed--and finally proved to be entirely false!
Once more I was vindicated, but once more... incalculable harm had been
done me.
This fantastic story of the "poisoned chocolates" had a sequel, whether
direct or indirect, I cannot tell. At any rate, shortly afterwards, the
body of M. Steinheil was exhumed. In December 1908, that of my mother
had been exhumed, and now, my husband's remains were once more examined,
so that a search might be made for any traces of narcotic or poison.
Dr. Courtois-Suffit, had made a thorough "medical" examination,
immediately after the crime, but ten months later, Dr. Balthazard was
requested by M. André to make a second autopsy!
Although M. Steinheil was buried in the family vault at L'Hay, Marthe's
consent was not even asked for the exhumation. The tomb was, as it were,
broken into, and the body of her father removed to be examined once
more. (Yet another unlawful act committed by the law!) She--and I--only
heard of the exhumation several days after it had taken place. I can
hardly believe that such an arbitrary and scandalous act could have been
committed in any other civilised country.
The conclusion of Dr. Balthazard's lengthy and most painstaking report
was that "toxicological examination of the viscera... _did not reveal
any traces_ of narcotic or stupefactive.'"
(_Dossier_ Cote 220)
There was no mention whatever of poison. In this same and final report,
Dr. Balthazard went on to say that: "Finally, M. Steinheil died without
a struggle, from strangulation by a cord; it appears that he died at the
spot where he was found... (away from his bed, on the threshold of the
bath-room). Secondly, Mme. Japy died of suffocation owing to the
introduction of a voluminous gag of wadding into her mouth; before she
was dead, a cord was tightened round her neck; Mme. Japy appears to have
died on her bed at the very place where her body was found. There were
no traces of violence to indicate that she struggled against an
aggressor...."
In Cote 197, I read with interest the statements made by M. Rousseau, a
mechanic at the large printing works in the Impasse Ronsin--which employ
some two thousand men and women.
"About three weeks before the crime, I noticed in the Impasse Ronsin, at
noon, or 1 P.M., three men and a woman near the wall of the Steinheils'
house; they were talking together.... The woman rang at the gate. Some
one came and spoke to her for a few moments. Meanwhile, the three men
walked a little away from the gate, but remained on that side of the
Impasse." After describing the four persons (the three men wore "black
felt artists' hats," and the "woman wore a shawl in the Italian style"),
M. Rousseau declared that he "saw those people again several times, near
the gate of my house," and that he was struck by "their hesitating
attitude."
A "M. Godefroy, also employed at the printing works... remembered having
seen those individuals in the Impasse Ronsin...."
* * * * *
I was also surprised to find that in this colossal dossier many persons
gave evidence who had only met me once or twice, whilst close friends
whom I had known for years were not questioned about me. Thus the
dossier contained no mention of Bonnat or Massenet, of M.
Viollet-le-Duc, of M. Delalande--French Consul-General in Naples and
recently in London--who had known me from the days when I was only
fourteen; of M. Sadi-Carnot, son of the late President; of M. Duteil
d'Ozanne, Chief of the Secretariat of the "Legion of Honour"; and many
other prominent men. Not one of the generals, admirals, statesmen,
politicians, and important officials who knew me well, were consulted,
nor, of course, President Tassard, President Petit, or any of the
numberless magistrates with whom, and with whose wives, I was on terms
of close friendship.
* * * * *
Whilst working on the dossier I became less despondent, and regained
some of the strength I had lost. Reading those documents aroused not
only my indignation, but also my will. I would not be condemned; I would
fight the Prosecution and win; I would say all I knew, happen what
might.... But my counsel begged me to let him conduct my defence, and
warned me, now that my trial was approaching, as he had warned me before
the _Instruction_. "If you attack any one, you are lost," he would say;
"be calm, answer questions, and let _me_ do everything at your trial."
When would that trial take place? When should I be free? I kept asking
those two questions of Maître Aubin, who, alas! could give me no
definite answer.
The summer had passed; the autumn had come. Through the iron bars of my
window I saw the leaves fall one by one from the trees in the yard, and
the prison and the sky were again grey and dreary, as on that November
day, a year before, when I awoke to find myself for the first time in a
prison cell. I knew every one in the prison now, and every stone. I knew
every cat and many of the pigeons, which I had named.
Marthe came three times a week. The Sisters were more attentive and
devoted than ever. Pastor Arboux and the Catholic Chaplain visited me as
regularly as ever, and Juliette did her utmost to make my life more
bearable; but the end of a journey is always the most trying part to
body and mind, and then I was not sure, in spite of my absolute
innocence, that the end of my terrible journey was at hand. I had been
treated with such injustice, and, as I knew only too well, opinion was
so much against me, that at times I imagined that I should be found
guilty. But I argued with Sister Léonide, or Juliette, or... myself, and
Hope sprang eternal in my frozen heart.
[Illustration:
Photo by Claude Harris, London
OBJECTS I USED IN PRISON
Slippers made by myself.
Penny looking-glass--only kind allowed by the prison authorities.
Blunt knife. Salt Cellar. Jug. Basin.
Coffee Strainer--made by myself with fire-wood sticks, some linen and
wire taken from my hat.
Breadbasket--made by myself with paper.]
I had now been over eleven months in prison. November had come, with its
dull skies and monotonous rains. My cell was dark again, and damper than
ever. Juliette "read" the cards five, eight, ten times a day for me, and
told me every time that my innocence would appear to all, and that I
should be triumphantly acquitted.... It is wonderful what cards can say,
or be made to say.
I knew the dossier by heart now in spite of its two million words. But
the opening day of the trial, although every second brought me nearer to
it, seemed to become more hopelessly distant. I sat on my rush chair by
the open window and tried to take an interest in what I saw, although I
knew it all so well. The drizzling rain drifted in through the wire
trellis and the iron bars, and cooled my burning forehead. I pressed my
hands flat against the trellis to cool them too, and sometimes, in a
gust of frenzy at the thought of my imprisonment, I convulsively
clutched both the bars and the trellis, and shook and shook them as if I
thought I could shake them to pieces.
I heard that my trial was to begin at the Assize Court on Wednesday,
November 3rd (1909), at noon.
Towards the end of October I had had a long talk with my daughter, and
we had agreed that it would be better for me--and her--if she did not
come again to Saint-Lazare. Her visits gave me life, but at the same
time we could not help talking about the impending and momentous trial.
Marthe wept bitterly, and the sight of her tears made me lose the
courage and strength I so much needed to enable me to face the terrible
ordeal.
"I will come at the end of your trial to see you acquitted, mother!" had
been the last words of my beloved daughter.
I had long talks with my counsel. He urged me to be calm and discreet.
Above all, he entreated me not to mention any "new" fact, and not to
speak of President Faure or the judges I had known intimately; in
short, he repeated what he had said to me before the _Instruction_.
I promised everything. I had the greatest confidence in my counsel, and
he had sworn to me that I should be acquitted if only I did as he told
me. I threatened, however, to break all my promises if there were women
at my trial. I was thinking chiefly of _one_ woman, the wife of a most
prominent personage--at the time--the very woman who had visited
President Faure shortly before my arrival at the Elysée on that fatal
February 16th, 1899. I could not bear the idea that _she_ might be in
the court, smiling sarcastically at my misfortune and my shame--she
free, powerful, perhaps even respected, and I a prisoner accused of
murder!... Let not the reader think that there was or could be a
question of jealousy between that woman and me. She hated me in those
days when President Faure honoured me not only with his friendship but
with his confidence, and she had hated me ever since. For my own part, I
had not worried over her, but I had warned the President time after time
against her, for it was she who had urged him to adopt that dangerous
remedy from the abuse of which I have no doubt he died.... I thought of
other women, too: "friends," who after seeing me for fifteen years in my
salon now find it "amusing" to watch me in a Court of Assize.... Ah! Let
not the reader speak of Spite, Jealousy, or Malice! I had but one
thought: to be acquitted, to escape from that Inferno, and to be once
more near my child. But I needed all my reason and all my strength for
that trial, and I felt that if around me I saw women laugh at my misery,
my grief would be greater, the trial more painful, victory more
difficult to achieve!...
Did Maître Aubin take some steps or not? I cannot say, nor do I wish to
know. But I was shown, shortly before the opening of the trial, a
cutting from _Le Temps_, I believe, which stated that M. de Valles would
not allow any ladies to be present at the Steinheil trial.
On Sunday, October 31, my counsel remained with me most of the day,
giving me his final words of advice and warning.
Personally, I did not know any longer what to do, or say, or think. I
was exhausted, bewildered, worn, a prey to a thousand and one
conflicting thoughts and emotions. For eighteen months my life had been
a martyrdom; no sorrow, no pain, no insult, no trial had been spared me,
and now I longed for peace, for sleep, for oblivion. Nothing else
mattered.
On Monday, November 1, I was told that I should be sent for the next day
at 2 P.M. and taken to the Palace of Justice. Several of the Sisters
remained a long time in my cell. Pastor Arboux called and prayed with
me. The old chaplain, M. Doumergue, played the organ in the chapel, then
he came to my cell and gave me his blessing.... I could not sleep during
the night, and poor Juliette, with her usual kindness, remained, hour
after hour, seated near my bed, talking to me, cheering me, comforting
me....
The next morning--Tuesday, November 2--Sister Léonide brought me my hat,
cloak and gloves; and the Sisters came once more to say that they had
prayed for me and to ask me to trust in the Almighty: I would be
acquitted, they all knew it; my innocence would be victoriously
revealed. They could hardly speak, and I was so moved that words failed
me when I tried to thank them all....
A clock struck two, I had been ready since noon. No one came. Three
o'clock, four, five, six, eight, ten o'clock! Still no one.... Then
Sister Léonide entered my cell and said: "You will not go to-day; they
will come and fetch you to-morrow at five in the morning, my poor
child!"
I had been walking up and down my cell for over ten hours! Sister
Léonide compelled me to eat a little. I went to bed, assisted by
Juliette, and I fell asleep and dreamed of Marthe.
Sister Léonide awoke me at 4 A.M., for, at five, I would be sent for....
And my trial was to begin at noon! I felt very tired and sleepy.
Juliette kissed me good-bye. Sister Léonide asked me to remember
Saint-Lazare--and her--sometimes, and she too gave me a blessing. Then,
after a look round the cell where I had been imprisoned for nearly a
year, and a last hand-shake with Juliette, I walked out into the
"Boulevard of the Cells" and followed Sister Léonide. That the prisoners
might not know of my departure, the gong was not rung. I walked as in a
trance. But all the time, I thought of my arrival at Saint-Lazare a year
before! A year!... I had spent a year within the walls of a prison!...
It was cold, very cold, and the silence was awe-inspiring. I thanked
Sister Léonide for all that she had done for me, but there must have
been more gratitude in my eyes than in my words.... Then, I was led to a
carriage and driven to the _Dépôt_ before I fully realised that I had
left Saint-Lazare--probably for ever!
On the way, I looked at Paris, that vast city which for me had lost its
meaning.... I counted the lamp-posts we passed, watched the few people I
saw, threw a glance at the Seine, the waters of which seemed to be made
of molten lead, cold and motionless. A fine drizzle struck my face
through my mourning veil as I stepped out of the carriage and entered
the _Dépôt_....
There, the Sister Superior with the beautiful and pathetic face was
awaiting me. She begged me to lie down on the bed in the cell, and I
gladly obeyed, but at 8.30 A.M., I felt so restless that I rose and
paced my cage. The aged Sister of Mercy came, and I heard that hundreds
of poor wretches had spent the night outside the Palace of Justice in
order to sell their "seats" to persons anxious to be present at my
trial. I was told afterwards that such "seats" fetched from twenty-five
to one hundred francs (£1 to £4), and that a few morbid amateurs of
sensational spectacles paid as much as £10 and even £15 for the
privilege of standing at the back of the court in the small and
overcrowded "public" enclosure, to watch a woman struggling to prove her
innocence.
I was asked to be "quite ready" by 11 A.M. I was ready in every way,
except mentally, for as the hour drew near when I would appear before my
judges, I felt my strength ebb from me. It all seemed so useless, so
utterly absurd, to be innocent and yet to have to prove one's innocence,
to fight for one's life!...
Some one--the Director at the _Dépôt_ perhaps--told me I should need all
the presence of mind, all the will and all the power of arguing at my
command, and I heard to my unspeakable disgust that recently--yes,
before my trial--the _Matin_ had published _in extenso_ the text of the
_Indictment_ against me!